


Potter, You're Drunk

by GoldenTruth813



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: 8th year, First Kisses, Hogwarts Era, M/M, drunk!Harry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-29
Updated: 2015-10-29
Packaged: 2018-04-28 20:00:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 787
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5103905
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GoldenTruth813/pseuds/GoldenTruth813
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Draco finds Harry drunk and wandering the halls, a few confessions lead to a happy outcome.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Potter, You're Drunk

**Author's Note:**

> Drabble written for the promt “things you said at 1 am” for @tsuntsun-neko. I couldn’t resist a bit of 8th year, drunk!harry and first kisses with this one.

“You’re not scary you know,” Harry slurs, stumbling into Draco and grabbing at his arm to keep from tipping over.

“Potter you are so drunk,” Draco tells him, shaking his head bemusedly, then ensuring that Harry is standing right side up before continuing to lead him down the dark, empty fourth floor corridor.

“So, s'not like you’re gonna bite. Are you?”

Draco raises his eyebrow in disbelief, attempting a bit of glare but Harry only starts to laugh.

“You should watch it. I might leave you all alone and then you’d never find your way back to your dormitory.”

“Uh uh you wouldn’t leave me.”

Draco opens his mouth to reply but snaps it shut when he realizes the truth of Harry’s words. Damn, Potter.

“Fine if I’m helping you then I think I deserve to at least know why you were stumbling around the corridors drunk and alone at one in the morning. It’s well past curfew, not that you would care about something silly like rules.”

“I have unresolved needs,” Harry says happily as if that were a good thing, leaning his shoulder against Draco’s far more than could possibly be necessary.

“And did your needs involve something buried at the bottom of a bottle of Ogdens Special Reserve?”

“You smell good,” Harry says, his voice echoing loudly against the stone walls as he pointedly ignores Draco’s question.

“Potter-” Draco starts, but Harry cuts him off with a simple shake of his head, turning to smile at Draco who stops walking immediately. Draco darts his eyes around to make sure they’re alone, before turning his sights back on Harry.

“Do you have needs? Hermione said we have unresolved issues you know,” Harry tells him, and this time his voice is barely above a whisper.

Draco startles when his back hits cold stone and he frowns wondering when he’d started backing away from Harry. Probably, he thinks, about the same time he’d started stalking towards him like he were some sort of prey.

“You don’t have to be scared you know, m'not gonna bite. Unless you want me to.”

“Potter I am not scared,” Draco protests indignantly, though he’s sure his rapid breathing and clenched fists suggest otherwise.

“S'ok if you’re scared. I can be brave for both of us,” Harry whispers softly, reaching out to place one hand on Draco’s chest. Draco wants to say a million things, wants to protest and push him away and tell him he isn’t scared, but as Harry inches closer all he can think is how much he wants this.

It’s always been Potter. Stupid brash, reckless, honest, selfless Potter who never gives up or gives in. Stupid Potter with his bright eyes and flushed skin, who smells like firewhiskey and broom polish, and fresh air and Draco feels like he might be drowning in amorentia.

“Don’t be scared,” Harry murmurs, his lips just inches away from Draco’s, their bodies pressed together so closely he can feel Harry’s heartbeat rattling against his own chest.

Draco wants to tell him that he isn’t scared of anyone, especially not him. Only he knows it isn’t true and he somehow finds himself unable to lie.

Instead, he reaches out to wrap his arms around Harry’s waist and rest them at the small of his back, hoping Potter is too drunk to notice his hands shaking. He doesn’t seem to, doesn’t startle or stop just moves forward closing the gap until his lips are pressed firmly against Draco’s.

Draco can’t help but think Potter must really be drunk because he’s kissing him so slowly, as if it’s taking every ounce of concentration the other boy possesses.

Harry’s lips are rough and chapped, but impossibly warm, and when Draco’s tongue slides inside his mouth he can’t help but whimper at the taste of whiskey and chocolate. It’s sweet and bitter and so strong Draco almost thinks he could get drunk just from kissing him.

It should be weird, or awkward, or shocking even. Yet all Draco can think as they stand there for long minutes kissing softly is that it feels inevitable; they have always been inevitable.

When they finally pull apart Harry’s lips and cheeks are flushed and his eyes are impossibly clear.

“Come on,” he says suddenly, tugging on Draco’s hand.

“Wait, after all that you want me to take you back to your room now?” Draco says, embarrassed at the high pitched screech in his voice.

Harry shakes his head and laughs quietly, leaning forward to nuzzle and lick at Draco’s neck like some sort of kitten.

“Nu uh, want you to take me back to your room,” he whispers, and Draco can’t stop the smile that spreads across his face.


End file.
